


Rekindling

by kakkoweeb



Series: Celebrations [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Christmas Party, Kissing, M/M, i guess, idk how to tag that, seijoh's third years all ship oikage don't test me, they don't breathe for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkoweeb/pseuds/kakkoweeb
Summary: In which sticks (but not stones) break some walls in between an unlikely pair of boys.





	

**Author's Note:**

> december 24th is almost ending where i live, so here's the christmas eve fic! this was rushed af you would not bELIEVE but i tried my best despite time constraints. it was probably also my first time explicitly procrastinating writing. i hope it didn't turn out horrible.
> 
> also johzenji's here but i had to cut out the paragraphs regarding the explanation for length and coherency's sake lmao. i'm wondering where i might put it;;; ~~do i dare make christmas terudai~~

Oikawa wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting as he trudged through the quiet streets of Miyagi, three noisy friends and several disinterested juniors in tow. They were headed to Karasuno, after all—enemy territory, uncharted waters—and though strictly speaking the visit was purely friendly, he couldn’t quite get himself to relax. Not when the events from his last trip to the school were still fresh and piping hot in his memory.

Simply remembering it was a gigantic embarrassment: from the very concept of him going out of his way to deliver a gift in the hope of repaying Tobio to the fact that he’d cockily asked for a kiss before promptly freaking out after having received one. Having it broadcasted straight to the judgmental ears of his friends was adding insult to an already-severe injury but he could no longer be angry at the three people who found merriment in rekindling the flames of humiliation buried inside him while he was this [read: very, _very]_  nervous.

It was good to see that Tobio was as flustered about the whole thing as he was but a whole two days had passed since then and even for Tobio, that was already a pretty long time to muse. About what, Oikawa couldn’t guess, and that was what made everything so terrifying. 

No, he had absolutely no idea what he was expecting—from the party, from Tobio, anything. But whatever it really was, he was pretty sure that what he was seeing as he stood by the Karasuno High School gymnasium doors was definitely _not_ it.

What he was seeing was chaos, turmoil: strangers running around and laughing, a boy Oikawa recognized as Johzenji’s captain [Johzenji, the party team; of _course]_ doing a cartwheel dangerously close to the table holding snacks and Karasuno’s pinch server yelling in distress. What he saw was chibi-chan and the libero making a game out of keeping airborne as many balloons as possible. What he saw was the bald spiker chasing a benchwarmer around while holding what looked like permanent marker, Sawamura seemingly trying to strip their ace of his jacket, and Refreshing-kun expectantly holding up a flower crown. 

What he didn’t see was Kageyama Tobio. 

“Whoa, it’s Seijoh!” someone cried, and Oikawa didn’t have any more time to pinpoint who it was, because in a split second the commotion was dying and everyone was looking at him like he was a trespasser again. 

He swallowed. 

“Oikawa, hey!” Sawamura greeted, and now that he was occupied Karasuno’s ace seemed to heave a sigh of relief. “And you brought everyone too; that’s good. Thanks for coming.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Matsukawa said in reply. It sounded friendly enough, but then he was sending Oikawa a suggestive glance and grin and _that_ idea was flying out the window. “Something about the invitation seemed...personal.”

Nearly half of his [beloved, caring, oh so _loyal]_ team snickered, and Oikawa wished he could slither back out the door and teleport home. Discreetly, and while expertly keeping anything close to a friendly expression on his face because Sawamura was still talking, he allowed his eyes to wander around the entirety of the gym—for possible escape routes, something to occupy himself with in solitude, another setter about 180 cm tall—no, wait, not that. He screwed his eyes shut in exasperation; _anything_ but that 

[He really wasn’t around, though. That was odd, but it was perfectly fine with Oikawa. Really.]

“—oh, and Oikawa,” Sawamura suddenly said, voice a little louder in Oikawa’s hearing now than it had been earlier; Oikawa snapped to attention, forced smile still fastened to his face. “Kageyama was here earlier but he just disappeared after things started getting a little wild. Not sure where he is, but he should turn up sooner or later if you wait.” 

“What—“ Oikawa’s entire being seemed to jump, and then the people he used to call friends were ooh-ing and snickering some more and he wanted to shrink into himself all over again.

“Geez, Oikawa, we just got here,” said Makki, wrapping two arms around his captain’s torso and resting his chin on the latter’s shoulder. “Is Kageyama really the first thing you’re thinking about at a Christmas party? I didn’t know you were this far gone.”

“Ex _cuse_ you—“ Oikawa squirmed in his hold, wiggling himself out as best he could, before taking several wary steps back the moment he was free should Hanamaki try to make a grab for him again. “I am _not_ looking for him. I’m not looking for him,” he quickly added, briefly addressing Sawamura before glaring at his fellow Seijoh third years some more, “and I am _not_ far gone. I’m still mad at the three of you so I’m going to be separating myself for the rest of the night. Goodbye.”

Abruptly, he turned around, ignoring the rest of the assembly’s questioning stares along with the distant sound of Hanamaki’s, “Don’t mind him. He’s just sensitive in the winter.” He knew that coming to this party was a bad idea and now that Tobio wasn’t around, he remembered just how frustrated he was that his best friends had been goading him non-stop for the past few days and how they literally dressed him up and _dragged him_ outside the house just to be at Karasuno at this very moment, like it was something important when it absolutely wasn’t.

What satisfaction they got from making him miserable and what exactly was so important about him being within a fifty-foot radius of Kageyama Tobio was far beyond him. All he knew now was that the gym had another door leading to the [isolated; thank god] other side of the building. It was outdoors and cold as hell, probably, but it was better than staying within everyone’s line of sight and constantly getting hounded. So he passed through the door, side-stepped so he would be out of everyone’s field of view, leaned against the wall beside the stair steps—

—and immediately found Tobio.

He was sitting on the steps to Oikawa’s right, facing away from him and the rest of civilization, hunched over something invisible. It wasn’t that dark yet and Oikawa was able to take note of his black jacket and jeans—and it occurred to him that this would be his first time seeing Tobio in anything other than his school or volleyball uniform. Just the thought of it was so alien, so— _casual_ it made Oikawa sick but also excited him a little bit. He wondered what Tobio looked like from the front, maybe up close, and then he gave himself up a mental slap because _seriously? Taking interest in Tobio-chan’s outfit? And right after he kissed your cheek too?_

What was Tobio even doing?

Oikawa knew he was probably going to regret this, but he crossed his arms and huffed quietly before speaking up. “What are—“

Tobio yelped, the entirety of his form twitching erratically before falling off of the stairs and sliding onto the ground. Oikawa himself was made to start, leaving his current place against the wall in favor of standing upright and looking at the simpleton on the ground, returning the startled stare that Tobio had angled his entire upper body to give. His nose was flushed pink and white puffs of air pushed away from his open mouth every time he exhaled, breath coming fast.

It was also Oikawa’s first time in a long time seeing Tobio outdoors in the middle of winter. The sight should have had his heart rate threatening to quicken again, but it was getting increasingly hard to ignore the fact that Tobio was on the ground after having pathetically fallen off the stairs the second Oikawa spoke, and Oikawa couldn’t even think to do anything other than laugh, and so that was what he did.

Initially it came out as more of a snort, but Tobio was frowning up at him nevertheless. “How long have you been there?” he asked, irate, as he brought himself up on his feet, dusting snow off of his arms and legs. He didn't look like he intended to talk about their little 'incident' any longer, thankfully, and so Oikawa found it in himself to act a little more normally than he would have thirty seconds ago.

“How long have _you_ been out here? What are you even doing?” he asked, the humored smile still settled nicely on his face. But he realized, then, that Tobio was tightly gripping a small, open box of what looked to be pocky—pocky of the very flavor that Oikawa had gotten him a few days ago—and the happy face was vanishing and morphing into one of morbid curiosity as well as dread. “Wait, is that—“

“I haven’t gotten to eat it yet,” Tobio almost mumbled, clutching the box close to him and keeping his eyes glued to the snow-white ground. The pink on his face really suited how pale he looked in the outside light.

_Shit, he looks really cute,_ Oikawa’s mind screamed, but he was a honed actor and so he jammed his hands inside his pockets and tried not to stare too much at Tobio’s reddened cheeks or his surprisingly stylish choice of wardrobe. “And you’re out here because?” he asked instead; casually, like the smooth operator he was.

Tobio briefly glared at him, then at the sky, and then back at him again with a slight pout. “The entire box would be gone in two seconds if I ate it in there,” he admitted reluctantly.

That was probably true, and though it wasn’t exactly a rational decision to be outside in the middle of winter while snacking on pocky, Oikawa understood why Tobio had thought of it. He would respect it too, he told himself. After all, he’d decided earlier that anything was better than being in there with everyone that was out to get him. They were pretty much in the same boat.

The pocky looked pretty good though. “It would be, if you shared with everyone,” said Oikawa, and then, unable to help himself, he continued with: “Would you mind sharing with just one person, though?”

He was quickly glared at again, probably out of reluctance more than anything, but just as quickly, Tobio [still with that small pout; god, he needed to stop that] was inching the box closer towards him, allowing him to grab whatever piece he wanted, how many he wanted.

Oikawa smiled, reached inside the box, pulled out a single stick, and put it in his mouth—just one, because good people didn’t take more than one and who was Oikawa but a good person?

A good person with a few flaws in his personality, probably, and so after he’d heartily chewed on his piece and savored the rich taste of chocolate, he roughly grabbed Tobio by the arms, hauled him up the stairs and back into the gym [successfully; Kageyama was too startled to do anything other than get hauled], and shoved him forward and out in the open.

“Guess who was trying to eat pocky all alone so that he wouldn’t have to share?” Oikawa called out in a sing-song manner, voice echoing in the entirety of the gym, but the real music here was Tobio’s scream of distress. And accompanied by both Karasuno’s and Johzenji’s noises declaring betrayal, it may as well have been Oikawa’s favorite melody.

“Well, _someone’s_ not being a team player,” someone from Johzenji said.

“You’re not even a part of our team! Back off, son,” Karasuno’s libero—Nishinoya—said menacingly, glaring at the other boy like a hawk would at potential threats to her offspring.

“You mean you were planning to finish this entire box all by yourself?” said Glasses-kun, voice silky smooth and laced with venom, already making his way toward Tobio and trying to grab a piece from inside his box. And the more Tobio struggled, the happier he seemed to become. “That’s pretty stingy of you, King. And here I thought you were already learning to care about us.”

Several people laughed at the animalistic growl that Tobio let out, and Oikawa found that he was actually enjoying himself now that someone else was the object of ridicule. He grinned, crossed his arms, watching intently as members of Karasuno, Johzenji, and Seijoh alike [Kunimi and Kindaichi, in particular, looked excited to hassle their old teammate] all flocked around Tobio like a bunch of chickens eager to be fed, over twenty people bargaining and reaching out and begging for a chance to be given “at least one stick!”. The poor Tobio, fairly-gifted in terms of height, shrank in comparison to the magnitude of his attackers, and Oikawa thought he was going to get eaten alive along with all of his pocky.

He didn’t think he’d been this overjoyed in days.

“You really are a piece of crap,” Iwaizumi remarked from beside him, watching the mayhem with a less than satisfied look on his face. “You really need to stop picking on Kageyama. There are plenty of other ways to have fun.”

“Sure there are, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa agreed, but among those aforementioned ‘plenty of ways’, this had to be the best entertainment by a long shot.

Iwaizumi threw him a sidelong glare, but only shrugged. "This is pretty crazy and all," he said, voice somehow still able to get above the noise, "but I'd have thought you'd have done something worse. Like have him play the pocky game or something."

The Pocky Game. Oikawa heard about it often, saw couples or at least really close friends play it at times, and had even heard several girls talking about wanting to play it with him. It was inherently romantic; having Tobio play it would be something else, definitely, and so he gave a short laugh. “Now _that_ would be interesting.”

“You think so?”

“Mm-hmm.”

From the corner of his eye, Oikawa saw Iwaizumi grin. “Well, alright then,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Oikawa.”

And then Iwaizumi was launching himself into the fray, shoving past everyone crowding together and almost effortlessly making his way to Tobio before snatching the box right out of his hands. Oikawa watched in confusion, distinctly heard Tobio’s, “ _Iwaizumi-san?”_ before following the rapidly-moving Iwaizumi as he sped away from the crowd and onto the stage where he could sit and check on the box in peace.

There were protests from the band of hooligans but nobody bothered actually pursuing him. Iwaizumi grinned down at the box. “You bunch of animals,” he said, loudly enough for the entire assemblage to hear, “there’s only one stick left in here.”

More noise rose from the group, mostly laughter along with the cries of those who hadn’t gotten a stick yet despite the box only having the single one left, but Iwaizumi held up a hand to silence them. Miraculously, it worked, and Oikawa smiled, impressed. “This last stick should definitely go to Kageyama,” Iwaizumi declared, and Tobio below him seemed to light up. Iwaizumi smiled at him. “You haven’t gotten one yet, have you?”

“I haven’t!” Tobio confirmed, shaking his head.

“Alright, well, this is yours—on one condition,” said Iwaizumi, brandishing the box. “You have to play the pocky game with Oikawa.”

At once, any hint of joy that Oikawa might have been feeling earlier evaporated into the cold air and was swiftly replaced by bewilderment and horror. He could feel his eyes growing wider, his mouth hanging open, and he could have sworn that the rest of the party was sending smiles of pure evil his way. But more important than that was Tobio himself, looking at him with an equally horrified expression, and the sight of his face was enough to send hundreds of different scenarios hurtling in Oikawa’s brain—scenarios of standing mere inches away from him, their mouths only separated by a single stick—and nearly had him shutting down.

“Iwa-chan!” he cried, but he wasn’t quite sure what else he could follow it up with. “What—what kind of a condition is that? There’s no way I’m playing that game with Tobio-chan!”

“There’s no way I’m playing that game at all!” Tobio quickly added.

But Iwaizumi was too good for that. He raised a single eyebrow and quirked a single corner of his mouth up along with it. “So what you’re both saying is: you’re a pair of chickens.”

There was more ooh-ing [when was there not?] and Oikawa felt something inside of him snap. He knew what Iwaizumi was doing; he wasn’t dumb. Iwaizumi _knew_ how badly Oikawa wanted to beat Tobio at something, how badly he wanted to prove that he was better—whether it was a net in between them or something else altogether. He’d be forever branded a gullible idiot if he allowed himself to partake in this idiotic affair, for a pocky stick no less, but something about the combination of people egging them on and the emotions Tobio had been instilling in him these past couple of days made the idea sound kind of attractive.

And then there was Tobio himself—Tobio, who looked absolutely conflicted, probably unaware of what it actually felt to back down from a challenge but unable to visualize himself engaging in any sort of activity with someone like Oikawa. His teammates were nudging him and he was effectively scowling at them but Oikawa didn’t miss the brief glances he was taking, couldn’t help but think that maybe Tobio—with those pale, glimmering eyes that made Oikawa feel like he was looking up at the night sky, getting sucked into the depths of their vast universe—was considering the idea too.

“What’ll it be, Kageyama?” Iwaizumi pressed.

The more Tobio hesitated, the more confused and almost fearful looks Tobio sent his way, the more Oikawa felt a little braver, a little less lost and a whole lot more composed. He couldn’t be bothered to think of why; the only thing on his mind was what those eyes, that reddened nose, Tobio's  _lips_ would look like three inches away…then two…then one—

The more Tobio hesitated, the more Oikawa wanted him to say _yes._

 

Whereas Oikawa was beginning to calm down, Kageyama was experiencing the beginnings of a mental breakdown. He’d only heard of the pocky game because of a video Hinata showed him once, and he’d thought the whole thing was incredibly stupid and pointless before wondering how it was even possible. How exactly did two people fight for that last bit of stick anyway? With their lips? _Tongues?_ Wasn’t that gross? Wasn’t that something only couples did?

This was high [if not the top] on the list of reasons that Kageyama was more inclined to refuse Iwaizumi’s out-of-character challenge and just allow someone else to eat that last stick; it would be easy to buy himself another box, anyway. All the while as he struggled to make a decision and formulate a response that wouldn’t make him look like a complete coward, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Oikawa, a fellow victim in this sticky situation, and study his expressions. Kageyama had been incredibly thankful for the appalled look on his face the moment Iwaizumi proposed what he did, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Because the more he looked at Oikawa, the calmer he seemed to be getting. He wasn’t supposed to be calm, wasn’t supposed to look like he was accepting the challenge and was just waiting for Kageyama to do the same. He was supposed to react violently because this was dumb, completely unnecessary, and—and—Kageyama didn’t even know anymore.

He shook his head. “I—I don’t—“

“What’s wrong, Tobio-chan? You’re _that_ afraid you’re going to lose?”

Kageyama felt as though he’d just been stabbed. Oikawa was definitely cool and collected now, even able to cross his arms and raise a single eyebrow like his best friend had done, already able to _mock_ him for being a weenie, and Kageyama could feel the entirety of his system warming up but it wasn’t even from the amused stares everyone seemed to be giving him. All he could really see were Oikawa’s eyes, the upturn of his lips in that cocky little smirk; and all he could feel was utter confusion.

Did Oikawa actually _want_ to do this? And why did knowing that seem to calm Kageyama down too? _What was happening?_

Iwaizumi hopped off the stage and landed right next to Kageyama, the loud thud resounding beside him sending him into another twitching fit. Iwaizumi held the box up, angled so that the single stick inside was perfectly within his field of view. “Looks like Oikawa’s into it,” he said. “You’re not gonna let him call you a coward, are you? You’ve beaten him once before. You could do it again, right?”

Even Kageyama could tell when he was being manipulated, though by no means did he understand why. Why was this so important that it couldn’t just be dropped and passed onto someone else who was willing? No, he wasn’t a coward, and he didn’t need this ridiculous game to prove that [he could just as easily punch somebody in the nose and it would probably get the point across], but if it was what they wanted, then he would comply.

He was probably going to regret this in five minutes.

“Fine,” he said, almost aggressively, and the entirety of the gym exploded in diverse reactions when he reached inside the box, pulled the stick out, and stuck a single end in between his teeth. He didn't mind anyone else, kept his fingers supporting the rest of the stick as he stared up at his fellow challenger.

Oikawa’s face was indescribable.

All sounds seemed muted as he approached, eyes trained on the stick in between Kageyama’s lips, and Kageyama could only hear the beating of his heart in his chest, getting louder and louder the closer Oikawa became, thumping uncontrollably when he was but a mere stick’s length away. Now this— _this_ had to be the closest he’d ever been to Oikawa while staring into his eyes—those brown eyes so intense they almost made Kageyama forget how to breathe, made him feel like he was drowning in something thick and sweet.

His lips were a different story, and just looking at them sent Kageyama’s vision spinning.

“Alright, on a count of three, we start the game,” Iwaizumi said, and the sound of his voice brought Kageyama back to earth, reminded him that this was a challenge and therefore, something he had to beat Oikawa at. He sucked in a breath and could only hope that Oikawa hadn’t felt his deep exhale. “One…two…three—“

Less than half a second after three, Oikawa quickly bit into the stick and, in his panic, Kageyama followed suit, simply running on pure adrenaline and instantaneously deciding that he would prevail with speed alone. There were screams of encouragement as the both of them bit their way to the center but Kageyama heard none of them; Oikawa’s face was getting closer and closer— _alarmingly close—_ and he didn’t know _what_ to look at anymore. The stick? Oikawa’s eyes? Oikawa’s lips—

_—smashed against his?_

For what felt like an eternity, it felt like everything froze. Kageyama was standing in the center of a circle of people, watching intently, _recording,_ and right before him was Oikawa Tooru, eyebrows furrowed, gaze focused on the object of their competition, lips stuck to Kageyama’s. He could feel how soft and warm they were, how Oikawa’s bottom lip was wedged in between both of his and it shouldn’t have been a big deal, it was probably an effort to obtain the last bit of stick that may have been in Kageyama’s mouth, but Kageyama was in a state of disarray anyway, completely disoriented, freaking _the fuck_ out—because no matter what anyone said, he was kissing Oikawa right now.

And pocky game be _damned,_ he really liked it.

But like nothing had happened, like this wasn’t at all _insane_ , the scene was replaying and Oikawa’s lips were moving, trying to steal the stick from Kageyama’s, and his force was so great it had his opponent stumbling backward without meaning to. Kageyama struggled to fight back, overwhelmed both by Oikawa’s efforts and his hands fisted in Kageyama’s jacket to keep him from pulling away and potentially getting away with the main objective, and when he felt that Oikawa was slowly starting to succeed, he did the same—kept a tight grip on Oikawa’s clothes because there was _no way_ he was getting that stick out of Kageyama’s mouth, _no way._

Or so he said, but Oikawa was a bit better at this than he made himself out to be and soon Kageyama could feel the tiny stick slipping from his lips. Frustrated but still determined, he surged forward, unwilling to accommodate even just the thought of losing to his once-upperclassman _again,_ pulling Oikawa even closer and following his example of unpredictably moving his mouth—accidentally biting here and there—completely numb to the fact they were consequently in the middle of one ferocious kiss, only focused on the stick and certain victory.

Suddenly Oikawa stopped. The focused look on his face was now, instead, something stricken with panic and when Kageyama stopped as well he realized he could no longer feel certain victory where it was before. The little [last] bit of stick was no longer in between his lips or Oikawa’s, but near the corners of their now tightly-sealed mouths, only in place because of how close their faces were, threatening to fall the second either of them even thought to move.

Kageyama could only blink. What were they supposed to do? What did the rules say about ending up dropping the last bit? Was it allowed to fall? Were they allowed to make sure it wouldn’t fall? Were they allowed to _touch it?_ What would even happen if it fell? Who would win? Oh god, was it going to end up _a draw?_

At a loss, Kageyama tried to meet Oikawa’s eyes—tried, definitely, because he was far too close to not appear as one big blur—but even if he hadn’t, he already knew. Volleyball never ended in a draw and this was the ultimate score to settle, pathetic as it was; they were at one loss, one win each, and this would be the tie breaker. No way in hell was Oikawa going to let this end in a draw.

Well, neither was he.

Kageyama brought his attention to the stick dangling dangerously where their lips ended. How it had gotten there didn’t matter now; what was important was how they were going to get it out. They couldn’t use their mouths and risk letting it fall, but he wasn’t so sure about the use of hands either, and he definitely didn’t want to be called out for cheating or the likes and end up handing Oikawa the victory by default. He was going to have to think about this a little more fervently. There had to be some other way to get the thing back to safety.

But then he felt Oikawa’s grip on his jacket tighten. He still couldn’t see very well but it seemed as though Oikawa’s face had changed yet again, now looking kind of…concerned? Kageyama wasn’t sure about what exactly—that is, until he felt his chest getting heavier and heavier with every passing second and realized he hadn’t been breathing the entire time he’d been trying to come up with a remedy.

_Shit._

Okay, this was fine. He was just going to have to find a way to get that stick where it should have been before the both of them either surrendered or collapsed from the lack of oxygen; that was fine. Kageyama attempted to keep still, to calmly think of a way to fix their little predicament, but the more he pushed his brain to work, the more he became aware of the discomfort of holding his breath, the more he just wanted to flail around in an effort to keep it up, to at _least_ last longer than Oikawa would and gain some alternate sort of victory in this ridiculous competition.

He tightened his grip on his opponent’s shirt further and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Guys? Guys, are they breathing?”

“What? Of course they’re—holy shit, they’re not.”

“They’re _not breathing?”_

“Pull them apart!”

Kageyama felt several hands grabbing onto him, trying to yank him away from his current position, and he figured that Oikawa was experiencing the same thing because now his hold on Kageyama’s jacket was tighter than ever, all the more desperate, still determined to win despite the probable burning feeling in his lungs, and Kageyama certainly wasn’t about to concede before him and so he followed suit yet again, clung onto Oikawa like the entirety of his future depended on it.

“Oh my god, stop!”

“Kageyama, Oikawa-san, just let go!”

_No,_ Kageyama thought, but the idea was getting more and more appealing the greater the discomfort in his chest became.

“Iwaizumi, do something!”

“Pull them apart with your big bara arms.”

“What the _hell,_ Matsukawa?”

“Guys, stop it!” Kageyama could at least recognize Sugawara’s soothing yet panicked voice. “It’s okay already; we get it! You _both win_ —“

_There it was_.

In that instant, both Kageyama and Oikawa stumbled backward, gasping for air and falling to the ground with no shame, no qualms about it. Kageyama felt the harsh floor collide with his back but at this point, he didn’t care about how cold and hard it was. He was just grateful to be breathing, to be _alive,_ and to have emerged victorious [sort of].

The people surrounding them were anything _but_  quiet, but Kageyama could barely hear them over the sound of his heavy breathing and his heart beating in his ears, and that was completely fine; he didn’t want to hear any taunting right now anyway. Slowly, he struggled to sit up, to at least get his bearings back in terms of vision, and right across him he saw Oikawa, also seated on the ground, trying to catch his breath all the while scowling at his friends who were already buzzing around him, poking him in the sides and making funny noises.

And then they were locking eyes and it was hitting Kageyama like a brick, crashing into his system and lodging itself there, settling uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach—he had just kissed Oikawa. He and Oikawa _kissed_ , full on the lips. And it wasn’t just the plain kind of kiss either. It was like the ones in the movies—animated, kind of heated, dizzying, almost _passionate._

He potentially just _made out_ with _Oikawa._

It was the middle of winter and he was sitting outside not ten minutes ago, but Kageyama was warm. _Hot._ From the tips of his ears down to every last one of his limbs. His gaze, his troubled gaze, was fixed on Oikawa and he was pretty sure he was rapidly turning red right about now because Oikawa was exactly the same, was looking at him like he’d committed murder, looked unable to move or say anything remotely coherent. Kageyama himself felt like he was going to be sick.

“Okay, I’m just gonna throw this out there,” he heard Terushima say. “That was kinda hot.”

_FUCK._

Entire body stiffer than ever before but not from the winter chill, Kageyama rose to his feet and marched out of the gym, hand covering his mouth, eyes avoiding everyone else’s, mind and heart just about ready to explode.

 

* * *

 

It took a while, but after about thirty minutes of locking himself in a bathroom stall and sitting on top of a closed toilet, Kageyama was finally calming down. The entire day—no, these entire few days—had been one big roller coaster of emotions concerning Oikawa [Oikawa, who was supposed to be nothing more than the final hurdle he had to pass to know he was something special] and he couldn’t be any more confused, any more lost, any more...

...dare he say he was happy?

Kageyama was a complete stranger when it came to romance. He saw it in movies, he saw it in books and magazines, he saw it in real life when girls from his class freaked out about this one hot third year who had nice arms, but it was all alien to him. All that he’d gone through these last few months—cheek kisses, racing hearts, blushing faces, actual _lip kisses—_ could he even _begin_ to consider them romantic? They were all just circumstances gone wrong: him being an airhead, Oikawa being petty, the both of them being sore losers. It was far from the fairy tales he grew up considering romantic, and all in all, they were downright ridiculous.

So why could he never stop thinking about them?

He probably wouldn’t get any enlightenment just sitting alone in the bathroom, though, and by now, the others had to be wondering where he’d gone. Not that he particularly wanted to see them or hear anything they had to say about what just happened, but he left his current position anyway, exited the stall, and approached the sinks so he could at least wash his hands before facing the music.

And then the door was swinging open, someone else was stepping into the bathroom, and suddenly he was looking up and into Oikawa’s eyes again.

Kageyama felt his entire body grow stiff and his head had abruptly turned, without his consent, towards the mirror instead of in the direction of the newcomer who seemed to be frozen by the doorway. He wasn’t for very long, however, and soon Kageyama was unable to focus on the washing of his hands, simply let the water run over his skin when he became aware of Oikawa approaching the sink next to his. An almost awkward silence hung between them, washing their hands right beside each other, pretending like nothing was different.

That was probably for the best, and for a while, Kageyama thought they were going to get away with it. Sure, this was awkward but talking probably wouldn’t lead to anything better, and he was glad for the unchanging silence. But then he realized that Oikawa was looking at him—his reflection—through the mirror and suddenly he didn't know _what_ to feel anymore, wasn’t sure what was best to do other than return the stare through the mirror too; he didn’t think he could look directly into Oikawa’s eyes just yet.

He'd never been able to read what was on Oikawa’s mind just based on his expression, but today, as the seconds ticked by, it was clear that his lips were desperately trying not to curl up into a smile. Slowly but surely, they failed, and just like that, Oikawa was bringing a wet hand to cover his mouth as he let out a snorting laugh that proceeded to turn into hearty little giggles that seemed to go straight to Kageyama’s insides, making them churn. He contained his own urge to smile by biting his lip. There was nothing funny at the moment but laughing just seemed like the rational thing to do, and getting to watch Oikawa do so from so close was a pretty excellent Christmas present.

Oikawa groaned as he recovered. “Next time we’re ever forced to get together like this, bring another box,” he said, still smiling, brushing soap in between his fingers. “It’ll be their turn next. _All_ of them.”

Struggling to compose himself enough to reply [did Oikawa actually just _engage him in conversation?],_ Kageyama turned his faucet off and blinked down at it, stealing glances at Oikawa’s reflection. “I think I’d rather actually get to eat next time.”

Another short laugh escaped Oikawa, and the sound of it accompanied by the sight of him smiling like he was around his friends had to be the most beautiful thing Kageyama had been privileged to witness.

The silence returned but it was a little less weird, a little less thick now that Kageyama had regained some confidence. “Are you heading back?” he asked.

“Sadly,” Oikawa seemed to sigh, turning the water off and shaking his hands to dry them. “They’re gonna have to get tired of making fun of me  _sometime_ and I haven’t eaten anything off the food table yet.” He paused, turned his head slightly to look at Kageyama’s actual, physical form instead of just his reflection. “You should probably go before me, though. If they see us walking in together, we’re dead meat.”

He still had that half-amused, half-friendly smile still on his face, and Kageyama couldn’t quite resist anymore; he allowed his facial muscles to relax, do whatever the hell they wanted, and what they wanted really badly was to smile back as best they could. “Yeah,” he said, and the smile felt a little strange on his face but otherwise alright.

But the one on Oikawa’s vanished completely, allowing his lips to part slightly in an effort to match with the almost shocked look on his eyes, and Kageyama quickly wiped his own smile off of his face and recoiled. Did he do something wrong? Did he look weird? Shit, Hinata was right; he really _was_ no good at looking happy. He should’ve known better, shouldn’t have suddenly up and smiled when they were already having something close to a normal encounter for the first time in years.

“Um.” Embarrassed at his own inability to appear friendly, Kageyama stepped away from the sink, away from Oikawa, and headed for the exit. “I’ll see you later. Merry Christmas, Oikawa-san,” he mumbled, before slipping past the door and shutting it firmly behind him.

Quite glad to be alone now, even in the dark of night and in the middle of winter, Kageyama let out a breath. He wasn’t so sure what he expected out of this party when he found out Oikawa was going to be there, and even now that it was almost over, he couldn’t quite tell whether anything that had happened was to his liking or not. What he did know that this had been a pretty fun year, a really interesting couple of days, and one hell of a Christmas Eve—something to remember, at the very least.

And what he didn’t know was that he’d left Oikawa in the bathroom, hand covering his gaping mouth and burning cheeks, all the while wondering why one look at Tobio’s _[beautiful, what the hell]_ smiling face instantly had his heart racing.

**Author's Note:**

> on that note, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your overwhelming response to the Celebrations series so far. the amount of comments i replied to and kudoses and bookmarks and even nice tags i saw on everything i posted on tumblr for tobio's birthday was INCREDIBLE AND I JUST. wow. i'm not used to posting my work online so i get surprised and giddy at the slightest ounce of feedback but this was amazing. thank you, seriously.
> 
> happy holidays!! [talk to me it's christmas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkoweeb/profile)


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